


Do I Wanna Know?

by juxtaposedmusings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Betty!Domme, Canon- only with the wig and webcam thing, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Edging, F/M, Goddess Worship, JOI - Freeform, Jughead!Sub, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Power Exchange, S&M, Stepping, Vaginal Sex, foot worship, jughead likes giving head, not actually underage just hints throwards it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtaposedmusings/pseuds/juxtaposedmusings
Summary: Betty Cooper spent her evenings captivating viewers on her own personal site with her online persona, Miss Darla.Miss Darla was a no-nonsense bitch with a strict set of rules she made her patrons abide by. She wouldn’t be caught dead apologizing for anything she said, no matter how offensive. And she never thought twice about her level of sex appeal-- because she knew it was off the charts. After all, why else would 60+ viewers attend her chat each night?





	1. Miss Darla

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, this is my first fic on ao3 and I just wanted to say how _excited _I am! The Bughead community is just so great and I'm just super excited to share my work and everything. Just as a warning, this is going to be a really kinky 3-shot. If Domme stuff doesn't do it for you, or if any of the tags offend you, I would never force anyone to read this. It's good fun and AU, so I hope you like it half as much as I did writing it. Thank you thank you thank you to my pretty and talented betas:[tory-b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb) and [lilibug--xx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug)! Also thank you to [ theheavycrown ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown)who is the motivator of all my creativity. Okay, have fun reading! Some notes below regarding a title inspiration within the fic__

 

 

* * *

 

The pastel-clad blonde set her backpack down on the counter as she entered her studio apartment. The general silence and solitude the apartment granted her was a treasure she could never put a price on. That being said, she paid a pretty penny for the posh university living that was close to both the campus and night-life.

 

Betty Cooper was a freshman that made her way through college at an income that surpassed her mother’s journalist salary two-fold. The very source of her income caused a fall-out between mother and daughter, but if it meant Betty never had to be called Elizabeth in her life ever again. She posited that it was worth the cost it took to achieve.

 

Betty Cooper was a solid, near straight-A student, focusing on acing her general education credits before trying to declare a major she assumed would most likely fall in the humanities. She volunteered in city clean-ups and helped mentor elementary students with parents currently in jail.

 

Betty Cooper spent her evenings captivating viewers on her own personal site with her online persona, Miss Darla.

 

Miss Darla was a no-nonsense bitch with a strict set of rules she made her patrons abide by. She wouldn’t be caught dead apologizing for anything she said, no matter how offensive. And she never thought twice about her level of sex appeal--because she knew it was off the charts. After all, why else would 60+ viewers attend her chat each night?

 

Her short raven-haired bob and intense makeup wasn’t something Betty would be caught dead wearing. But Miss Darla lived in it.

 

The rules she had were simple, and she held a two-strike policy in which you were warned once and then banned for eternity if you couldn’t play nice. The rules were stated clearly on the front page of her personal site as well as in the general chatroom. She had to keep the rules generally lighthearted as a variety of viewers stumbled into the cam show whether they were ultimately interested in coming under her ownership or not.

 

_Rule 1: No harassing other patrons in the general chat_

Betty flipped the switch on the custom lights she had installed to allow for stellar lighting on the couch in her living room.  The dark gray suede couch was comfortable, but more importantly, had sufficient room to allow her to recline in whatever position the night would call for. The large flat screen on the wall doubled as the device she used to log into the site she hosted.

 

_Rule 2: Interacting in a private one-on-one will never be offered at a discounted price. You’re here to spoil me, don’t think you’re special._

 

After she was sure there was nothing identifiable in her living room, she skipped off to her bedroom, picking up the clothes that were preset on her bed. She shimmied out of her skinny jeans and panties, pulled the sweater and button down shirt over her head in one fell swoop and tossed it to the side before quickly unlatching her pale purple bra and tossing it to the side. She picked up the lacy thong, sliding it up each leg before snapping the fabric against her hips when they were fully covering the minimal flesh they were designated to. She put on a skimpy skirt with less fanfare before moving on to grab the stylish push-up bralette. Pulling it over her head and down onto her chest before adjusting the garment correctly and giving her tits a firm squeeze, acknowledging the fullness of breasts and the sex appeal she was entirely capable of exuding.

 

_Rule 3: I don’t do nude shows. Your loser ass isn’t worthy. Stop asking._

She walked over to the dresser against the wall, examining herself in the mirror. It was always a bit of a shock to see herself in the dark outfit before she had finished the rest of her ensemble. Betty Cooper previously never saw herself as being a girl who would make quite the side hustle through bossing men around online, but the second she grabbed the wig out of the first drawer in her dresser and putting it on, a slow grin spread across her face. The woman staring back at her had all the power in the world to tell any man he wasn’t worth the honor of cleaning her bathroom with their tongue.

 

_Rule 4: Time wasters, please leave now. I will find you and get your ass banned on every possible site known to man._

 

She spent a few more moments increasing the intensity of her makeup through a striking red lipstick and bit heavier eyeliner before winking at herself, pulling a silk black robe over her outfit and then finally made her way back off to the living room.

 

_Rule 5: If you want a private chat, you are only allowed to show from your mouth downward and you can only type your responses. I don’t do blackmail kinks._

When she was finally seated at the couch, she pulled a small lightweight laptop from under the couch and logged into her account and turned on the streaming functionality to the screen on the wall, making sure the main webcam being used was on the flat screen.

 

“Evening, my little minions,” she greeted once she was fully connected in the chat. She always started out the night on less degrading terms. “Did you all miss me?” She gave a small shimmy and a confident smirk as she watched the chat on the left side of the screen. Dozens of viewers already sending her credits at her simple hello.

 

Betty gave a coy, knowing smile as she undid the silk belt around her robe, looking down for a calculated half second before letting the silk fall slack, and turned her attention back to the screen. Several more participants had entered the open video chat. Dozens more explicit requests filtered into the chat box. She made a general habit of ignoring them when they came from people unwilling to request a private audience with her.

 

While everyone was paying to watch her channel, the rate they paid surged by the minute for the privilege of joining her in a one-on-one session. Generally, she averaged about two to four private chats a night when she wasn’t busy with other extracurriculars, which served for a fairly regular stream of $500 a night after she added in the general user’s tributes as well. This was even after the fees she paid to have the site hosted with minimal advertising.

 

Who would have thought telling men their prick was a pathetic excuse for a symbol of masculinity would be so lucrative?

 

She figured that while she was young she would take advantage of the same men who would inevitably objectify her; whether to her face or in private. At least here she had the opportunity not only to be compensated for their lecherous habits, but she was also able to assert herself over them. Treat them like the dogs they were, just begging to have the chance to kiss her feet.

 

* * *

 

 

As exciting as her evening job was, over the last few months it had taken on an entirely new level of intrigue for Betty Cooper.

 

That was right, Betty had grown to like various aspects of telling men what to do beyond just a simple roleplay scenario where she hid behind the name of Miss Darla.

 

Over the past few months, she had acquired a new and regular patron-- _TemptationSeeker13_.

 

At first, she had been hesitant to accept his personal chat invite at the possibility that the ‘13’ represented his age, but he included a snippet in his introduction explaining it meant the year he graduated college and wasn’t allowed to change it after he had joined. She shrugged and accepted it, figuring she could easily block him if she saw what looked like a young teenager’s dick on her screen.

 

She didn’t allow the men she chatted with to show their full face, as she wanted to encourage higher-profile men to visit her site without risk of incrimination. As far as she knew, _TemptationSeeker13_ seemed relatively attractive from the mouth down, and definitely resembled a post graduate of at least 5 years far more than a thirteen-year-old.

 

Their chats started out innocent enough.

 

That wasn’t abnormal. She always had to start out on the vanilla end of the spectrum at the risk of losing people not fully ready for a high level of kink.

 

The first session with anyone was either full-out humiliation or a game of 20 questions. Good little subs always wanted to know how to please their mistress, but this user was a bit different.

 

He didn’t just ask her the basic questions. Ones like: her measurements, how she wanted him, what was the most enjoyable part of being a domme.

 

Those questions _did_ come with time, but it started out with an inquiry as to what quotation best described her persona and why. She often thought back to the moment months ago.

 

She was personally a bit floored at the academic nature of his first question. The fact that he had appropriately said quotation versus quote when most men on the channel could hardly be bothered to add two extra letters to the word ‘you’.

 

Betty still remembered her genuine smile and thrill she felt when he had asked her. It was silly on the pretense that all she could see from his screen was his mouth to his knees, and she didn’t even hear him directly ask the question--just words on the screen--but she still felt the first inklings of interest form in that moment.

 

She had taken several seconds searching for a phrase that fit her.

 

“Not to sound cliché,” she started, a girlish grin still on her face, “but it’s definitely going to have to be from Oscar Wilde.”

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Oh, of course. He knew a thing or two about having a good time.

 

The smirk on his face, while she read his words, made her bite her lip, taking a few extra seconds to get back to her original train of thought.

 

“I think it goes ‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it...resist it and you’ll grow sick with longing’. But I’m paraphrasing.”

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : No, no. That was a great off hand recall. But you’re just saying that to get me hard, aren’t you? 

 

His words paired with his hand that smoothed over the erection that was visible in his pant line.

 

 _Shit_ , she thought. This man wasn’t a stereotypical slave or even a macho boy who wanted to see if she’d strip for him.

 

“Yeah? Well, thanks. If you’ve got a thing for 19th-century literature, I can read off some discourses I’ve prepared in the past, if that your thing,” said teased, the smugness back in her tone.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Only if you do it while telling me how to stroke myself.

 

“Of course,” she had cooed, “What kind of mistress would I be to you if I left you to figure out how to manipulate that cock of yours on your own. That’s what I’m here for, baby boy.”

 

* * *

 

Their talks often followed the same pattern. Betty appreciated the actual candid conversation and personality this user exuded even if she only could see his words instead of hearing any intonation.

 

Finding patrons that begged to have her tell them what to do, to set their schedules, budgets, and even dominate them to the level of reserving a majority of their budgets for her own personal indulgence was fairly common for Miss Darla. She regularly received requests for actual submissive men to be her “slave”.

 

It wasn’t something Betty personally got off on, but it wasn’t something she was morally opposed to either, especially when there were bills to be paid and luxuries she didn’t want to give up.

 

She had a few encounters with one-on-one clients who started out as if they were searching for their one true mistress. The situation quickly devolved when she verbally ran down her hard limit list (including no stripping, of course) and quickly saw these customers drop out of the chat.

 

If there was one thing that nauseated Betty, it was the number of men who complained about the lack of actual dominant women online. There was no question that there were more men online in general and that men outnumbered women when it came to paying for pornography and other kink fetishes, so it really did not surprise her when she first heard of “the ratio”.

 

There were plenty of legitimate dommes in the world, but when men who just wanted an easy fuck assumed that the dominant-submissive relationship was one of copiously had and easily earned sex, of course, it was going to distort the general perception of women dominants as well as how many women actually were interested in setting up shop online.

 

Betty wasn’t in love with her job, but she understood the high demand that there was for what came to her naturally. She didn’t have to strip naked in front of the people that paid $120 for a single hour of her time depending on their level of patronage.

 

 _TemptationSeeker13_ was different for Betty. He _played_ with her. It wasn’t pure submission until he made the move to give up his power in the conversation and Betty found herself craving every interaction with him with every passing week.

 

She even started offering him basic texting rights to a secondary phone she kept. A right she didn’t dole out to any other user, but she found that their weekly one-hour session wasn’t meeting her needs.

 

It was times like these she wished she had someone to discuss her night-time career. She wanted to go over how utterly crazy it was that Betty wanted to break some of her basic rules to allow this anonymous user the right to her time.

 

It _was_ utterly crazy and scared her on several levels. Betty loved it.

 

She knew this mystery man better than any lover she had ever taken in the past. There was no denying in the past that establishing and maintaining open and honest dialogues on wants and needs in the bedroom was not easy with boys her age. But he wasn’t a boy. He didn’t look very old, but he was definitely a man and it caused her stomach to flip at him giving up the general dominance the man appeared to exude.

 

He followed every instruction she gave him, sometimes upping the ante in the case of challenges she asked him to pursue in the week gap before their next one-on-one encounter.

 

She had once told him to count how many times he came to the thought of her holding him down with her favorite pair of Manolo shoes.

 

He agreed but asked if his mistress would please change the parameters of the order to not allowing him to cum, so instead, he had to count every time he edged himself to the thought.

 

Betty had praised him for the majority of their next session after his level of obedience.

 

* * *

 

Tonight Betty was excited because it was Tuesday night and Tuesday meant it was time for her weekly session with her favorite client. On Tuesdays, she generally ensured that _TemptationSeeker13_ either had her first or last available spot.

 

For tonight’s session, he would have her first, and Betty had been looking forward to their meeting since the past Wednesday morning.

 

After spending forty or so minutes in the general chat she bid adieu to the basic level users and used her laptop to enter her exclusive one-on-one room.

 

She set the computer to the side once again as she watched the screen in front of her load. Her body tensed as adrenaline surged through her, her excitement physically manifesting itself as her stomach turned in anticipation.

 

Her face hid every trace of the internal tension she felt, a slight smirk gracing her features as she saw her first guest of the night.

 

All she could see was the opened button down shirt and fitted-pants that he wore. Even his chin was rarely in view.

 

“There you are,” she greeted. “What’s it been like this week? I bet you’ve been doing a subpar job of jerking that cock of yours without me.”

 

For the nights where he was her first client, there was no time to mess around with pleasantries. She had to start with the instructions immediately so she would have time to cover the contents of the papers she had written in the past.

 

But first, she liked to have some control without various written out theories being presented to the man across the screen.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Just awful.

 

“Poor baby,” she soothed, “Don’t you worry, Miss Darla’s here and she’s going to give you the chance to make it better. As long as you be a good little boy and listen to my every word. Think you can do that?”

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Yes, ma’am.

 

“Good boy. Now take off your pants and get your cock out.”

 

Betty eagerly watched as he stood up, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and sliding them down his legs before sitting back down. He did as she said and exposed himself to her.

 

“That’s my boy,” she praised. “Lick your palm, nice and wet, now. Don’t be shy. That’s good, now grasp the base of that cock, applying a good amount of pressure.”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, the pause she made was more to her benefit than purposefully to give him time.

 

“Imagine you were such a good boy this week that you were worthy of putting that dick in my wet pussy,” she guided, his cock almost visibly twitching as he waited for her to give him additional instructions.

 

“Not that I’m sure a naughty boy like you would ever deserve it, am I right? Maybe I should have you just hold your cock like that the rest of these 50 minutes. Would you like that?”

 

She laughed, not actually serious about being too intentionally cruel. “No, I can’t be that mean to you, my good boy. Go ahead, start stroking yourself, make sure to add a nice twisting motion, too.”

 

He fastidiously followed her words. “Okay, you’re doing such a good job, why don’t you give your head a bit of attention, too. Run your thumb around the edge real nice and slow for me. Keep doing that ‘til I can see you leaking precum in that horribly lit room of yours.”

 

She knew this wouldn’t take too incredibly long, but she used this opportunity to grab her laptop and put it back in her lap, she opened up a word document of a previous paper she had written in the last month.

 

By the time she looked up, he had fulfilled her ask. “Oh, what a well behaved boy you’re being for me, baby,” she affirmed.

 

“Are you ready for some literary discussion of harmful expectations of society in regards to masculinity?”

 

She saw his free hand reach out to what she assumed was wherever his keyboard was.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : So ready.

 

“Alright,” she looked down at her laptop once again, “#MasculinitySoFragile: How the Male Characters in ‘Death of a Salesman’ and ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ Conform to their Society’s Concept of Masculinity.” [1]

 

She glanced up at the screen, immediately frowning upon seeing that both of his hands were no longer anywhere near his crotch.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Are you stealing essays online now?

 

Betty’s brows knit together at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : That title. I just read the same thing last week.

 

Betty had never been known for plagiarism. She prided her ideas on being rather original. Sure, other people had probably written a paper with both plays compared for a specific theme on the basis of the works coming out around the same period...but the title?

 

“You’re probably mistaken, everything we’ve chatted about is completely mine,” she responded.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : I’m really not. Did you borrow/steal this from a student at URW?

 

Betty’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her that this man somehow had possibly encountered her paper she had submitted the prior week.

 

Was he a fellow student? He definitely didn’t look like the 60-year-old teacher that taught the course she had written it for.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : I’m going to take your silence as admission to guilt.

 

“I said I wrote it!” She corrected, her tone angry and panicked at once.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : So...

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : You go to URW.

 

Betty didn’t know if she should shut her laptop, delete her account, and drop out of school all at once or just report the man for abusing the rules of her site.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : And correct me if I’m wrong, but are you one of my students?

 

 _Fuck_ , she thought. She had a TA in that class, and while he didn’t teach very often, from the small amount of times she had seen him, his appearance matched the user’s mouth down appearance.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Is your name Betty Cooper?

 

_Mistress Darla has left the room_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. TemptationSeeker13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter 2! I had so much fun! I hope everyone else enjoys this as well, I'm super pumped about the feedback I've received so far. Thank you thank you thank you to my pretty and talented betas: [tory-b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb) and [lilibug--xx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug).
> 
> But also thank you to [theheavycrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown) again because seriously without her I probably wouldn't be publishing! yayay.

 

It had been one hell of a day for the twenty-five-year-old teacher’s assistant.

Jughead haphazardly threw down a stack of letters on his less-than-chic kitchen island. Part of him wished he was still at the stage of _just_ being exhausted as he pulled open the refrigerator, to take out a large jug of cold brew coffee. He chugged some of its contents then shoved it back in, slamming the door closed.

Teaching a few Intro to Contemporary Lit classes weren't bad per se, but grading the contents of a mostly apathetic seminar on English Composition was as painful as it got. Every page he read through was another example of everything he has been taught to never put into his own work.

His apartment was modest--a couple hundred square feet of concrete and exposed brick that worked quite well for his aesthetic. His couch was more of a loveseat and the sad excuse of a bed was two hand-me-down mattresses stacked in the corner of the apartment. He wasn’t one to waste his savings on lavish living quarters. What he had suited him and was sufficient enough to allow the lifestyle he had currently grown accustomed to.

Besides, Jughead spent so many hours in the classroom — teaching or learning — and in office hours with students or his mentor, that most of his time was spent outside the confines of his apartment.

He was lucky; he knew that.

To have a coveted position under one of the most published professors in the country on modern literary theory was a little bit like a fairytale. After working his ass off in undergrad, Jughead had received a full ride for his grad school tuition as well as a generous living stipend. If there was a snowball’s chance in hell of following through on becoming a published author and professor himself, he needed to keep bowing and scraping at the feet of Professor Anderson for the opportunity of having his name added onto the end of one of those prestigious publications. 

With everything going one in his life, exhaustion was now a way of life.. Jughead needed every extra hour of doing menial he was given because it allowed him greater academic freedom to assist the professor with whatever half-baked theory he had that day. Managing this while also completing his own coursework was not an easy task, but he was making it work.

He casually unbuttoned his shirt while skimming through the mail he had tossed on the counter earlier that morning. Nothing particularly exciting, but he made it a habit of checking daily in order to avoid any past due notices. Jughead wasn’t one to repeat the sins of his family’s past.

Jughead was a careful young man; preferring not to surround himself with many people. Even his acquaintances would nod and agree if you asked them if he was a guarded individual. If one knew him better, ‘reserved’ and ‘selective’ were primary descriptors chosen for him.  

Selective about what he chose to reveal to the world as well as the people he chose to let in, and reserved in soliciting external approval from most anyone, few people would ever guess that his spare time — and money — was spent on a rather fiery domme named Miss Darla.

 

* * *

 

The story of Jughead Jones’ upbringing was one cliche short of being a Shakespearean Tragedy. The woman some people might refer to as his mother left when he had just barely been old enough to remember the spite in her tone and disinterest in her gaze as he clung to the hem of her pant legs.

It was the sort of image that stuck with him throughout his formative years. In kindergarten, when children were made to create family trees and describe their family members, Jughead ended up drawing a gruesome scene of stick figures with ‘X’s for eyes and crayon-drawn blood all over the 7x11 piece of construction paper. The incident landed him in the principal’s office — the first of many run-ins with authority figures he would experience throughout elementary school.

Living in a trailer park with his single father did nothing to help build a positive reputation for the young boy. Poverty fit the rogue outcast trope far too well for anyone to try to see him as worthy of a prospective and bright future.

Before Jughead even reached puberty he was labeled a troublemaker by adults and a recluse by his peers. It was a wonder he was able to gain the support and eventual tutelage of his High School English Composition teacher. It was then that he learned a good teacher had every power and ability to make a true impact on a student’s life, the sort that erased the years of negative stereotypes and turned his bouts of acting out into dedication and focus in his writing. If it wasn’t for him, his life would be on an entirely different path. Instead of button-down shirts and nicely fitted slacks, Jughead would surely be dressed head to toe in leather and denim with a splash of plaid for good measure.

The thought seldom crossed his mind (the would-be's, could-be’s, and if-only’s), as he tried his damnedest to stay fixated on the present and future. Nothing about his current life resembled wh could have been predicted from his young perspective.

 

Well, maybe _one_ thing was the same.

 

Jughead would be hard pressed to say he didn’t have a type. Though, he would never explicitly state what that type was nor how he had first discovered what particular avenue's did it for him. But he had known exactly what it was before turning ten years old.

The thing about growing up in a trailer park, other than being made fun of at school, was that one grew used to the lack of privacy that most suburbanites were able to afford. People hardly locked their trailers unless they had something of worth — which was few and far between. Even less seldom was the use of blinds and drapes to hide the activities that took place inside the shabby structures.

When he caught a glimpse of one of his neighbor from a distance, he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was looking at. The closer Jughead crept on that summer night, the clearer the image of the woman adorned in a black corset became until she was all he could focus on.

The cries of the man she struck with her satin-gloved hand billowed out of the slightly ajar window. The look on the man's face was something Jughead had never seen before. Every emotion he experienced while watching the grown man weep, the woman holding him in her arms, brought on a flurry of confusion that paralyzed his young brain in fascination. 

Jughead had seen nudie magazines with the other boys around the park when they were able to swipe them from their drunken relatives. He liked looking at tits and seeing women displayed in provocative manners. It wasn’t the act of sex itself that caused any sort of confliction or deep interest for him.

What he saw shook him thoroughly, straight to his core. He laid a sweaty mess in bed that night, hand nervously fumbling over his crotch with little expertise and no particular end goal in sight. 

Granted, his actions didn’t culminate in anything memorable, but upon waking up the next morning, he was greeted with the first damp pair of pajama pants since he had learned to stop wetting the bed.

 

* * *

 

Miss Darla was the distinct embodiment of Jughead’s pubescent fantasy, from her chosen attire to her verbal acuity. The black hair and sultry makeup weren’t specifically what drew him into her site, but they certainly didn’t hurt in building the confident look of the domme he spent what felt like an eternity searching for. Smart women did it for him, first and foremost. If he couldn’t hold a conversation with a lady and be challenged at least once, he was rarely interested for more than a few minutes at a time.

His mistress was sexy in every sense of the word. He loved relinquishing every bit of power he worked so carefully to construct for himself. Darla deserved everything he had to offer and to say he was hooked wouldn’t do the situation justice.

It took an unimaginable amount of conscious effort to remind himself that he wasn’t her only devotee. There were other men pledged to serve her every whim and more than likely able to sponsor her wants much better than he, on his current salary.

Jughead appreciated the chemistry she had cultivated between them, despite the fact that she had never heard him speak nor seen his face. She always seemed authentically interested in conversing with him.

A part of him, more subconscious, swore there was no way she could have the time nor attention span to pay this close of care for every single patron she entertained. The sorts of talks they had were far more than just her telling him how to jerk off.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me about your first time.” His mistress had instructed.

Even with most of his face cut off, his frown was apparent, causing her tone to shift at once.

“What’s wrong, my boy?”

Did this woman really have any right to know about something he hadn’t spoken of in over a decade?

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : Not really something I like to relive by writing it out. Or at all.

 

Jughead did his best to keep the response direct without causing her any sort of displeasure whether or not he was ready to share such details with her.

His mistress sighed, tapping her manicured nails against her knees.

“Let’s try this again,” she began, resolute in her command. “Tell me about your first time. Serving me comes with a vulnerability you don’t have the right to rescind. Open yourself up to me. There’s nothing that would please me more right now.”

Her words struck him in a way that winded him, thankful in that moment that the video was kind enough not to show the tears threatening to fall beyond the limits of the screen.

He fidgeted with his pant legs before moving his hands back to the keyboard. His fingers hovered over the keys for several beats before finally finding the way to follow her orders.

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : It was a long time ago. I was drinking with a couple of friends one night outside. Before I knew it... it was just me and one other guy.  And… yeah, that happened.

 

She watched him intently, waiting for him to go on. The eleven measures of silence let her know that he wasn’t going to say anything else without additional instruction.

“Did you say no?” She asked, voice far softer than before.

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : Didn’t really get a chance.

 

Darla nodded, eyes still focused on him with unwavering attention.

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : It doesn’t matter anymore.

 

Her head shook, tsking at him through her teeth. “It matters. While that’s something you can’t erase it doesn’t devalue you, you know?”

Jughead's breath had caught once more. He hadn’t remembered what it was like to be reassured in a long time. 

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : Don’t get sentimental on me.

 

When she rolled her eyes and laughed, he felt relief wash over him. 

“Alright, how about you share a positive experience with me. Tell me about something good.”

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : I can do that.

 

He spent a few moments remembering his first real lover. The sort of nurturing female figure he never had the opportunity to experience in his life prior to their encounter, the kind of woman he thought only existed in fairytales. She was strong, independent, and after a deal of time spent together, she took him in during the escalating episodes with his father. It evolved into sex after he turned seventeen and he insisted that was what he wanted. They had gone their separate ways after his admission to college, but he would never remember a single moment with the woman negatively.

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : She knew almost as much about my kinks as you do. I was younger, so I still wasn’t entirely sure about everything just yet. But she was good at helping me establish my limits, pushing them one session at a time.

 

Darla was smiling at him after this confession.

“Yeah? And how did she make you feel? In general.”

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : Safe.

 

“Mmm,” Darla hummed, eyes closed, “That’s a good feeling. How do I make you feel?”

 

 **Temptationseeker13** : Challenged.

 **Temptationseeker13** :  Wanted.

 

“I like that better,” she smirked.

 

* * *

 

Overall, Jughead Jones had it fairly good at this point in his life. He was on the path to redefine every low expectation the majority of people set for him at a young age. The fact that he now had the chance to impact the lives of other students was a revelation unexpected. Perhaps not in the way his high school teacher was able to do for him just yet, but he was on track to be capable of inspiring others and that was more than he could have ever dreamed.

Though, grading papers and tests were probably his least favorite part of life currently. General effort and spelling abilities were dropping year after year, if the last few he had spent as a teacher's assistant was any indication. It almost amazed him, considering the tools available for _free_ to prevent grammatical errors had increased tenfold since he was an undergrad student.

 _Lazy kids_ , he always thought.

(Jughead himself was only two years removed from the title of being a kid and here he was sounding like an old man.)

He could count between both hands how many times a student’s work had actually impressed him. These rare cases made him scour the internet to make certain that the individual didn’t just pilfer the paper from some other unmentioned source .And half of those aforementioned impressive papers were typically what he had guessed — plagiarism.

There was one girl — err, young woman, in his contemporary literature intro course that stood out on the merit of her chosen topics and how she executed them. She was the sort who picked the one prompt everyone else in the class avoided. He had seen students like that before — ones who picked the least popular topic in hopes that the grading would be tipped in their favor due to a small ounce of originality. But this one — whose name escaped him — would have solid essays time after time even if it _was_ the same exact subject as everyone else. The fact that she delivered on originality and content made grading her papers something just shy of a hobby for Jughead.

It was a nice break from reading through how _Catcher in the Rye_ was a broken coming of age story with little to no actual supporting source material 30 times over.

 

* * *

 

Sitting in front of his refurbished wooden desk, Jughead opened his MacBook, quickly opened an incognito tab, went to his most frequented website, and logged in as his embarrassing pseudonym of _TemptationSeeker13_. There wouldn’t be a time he typed it out that he wouldn’t feel a sense of shame for his hasty decision, one he was now stuck with.

He briefly entered the general chat first, wanting a quick peek of his mistress at work. As much as he loved their one-on-one interactions, she really was something to behold when it came to her command of the e-room. 

Entering the designated password he was given to access the one-on-one room by Darla, he quickly hit enter. As he was a few minutes early, Jughead knew he’d have to wait until she was done with the general users.He was grateful she couldn’t hear the audible gulp he made as he saw her appear on his screen.

When she greeted him so directly he felt himself start to harden. He loved the advantage he held in not having the tone of his voice give away the need he currently felt.

A few lines of small talk down before she finally got to what he had been waiting for all week long.

“Good boy. Now take off your pants and get that cock of yours out.”

Jughead obeyed eagerly and continued to follow her every word. His hand working his shaft up and down as soon as she finally allowed him the privilege of doing so.

Darla always added the right amount of quick-witted teasing to get him riled up enough that it was something of great self-control to not cum before she even got to reading to him.

Maybe it was a little different that their relationship involved her telling him how to get off while reading various literary theories she had concocted, but to him, there had never been anything more erotic.

“Alright,” she broke from her previous instructions, causing him to perk up in excitement to hear what she had to say.

“ _#MasculinitySoFragile: How the Male Characters in ‘Death of a Salesman’ and ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ Conform to their Society’s Concept of Masculinity_.” [1]

The blood rushed from where it had concentrated in his cock back up to his head, fueling the racing thoughts her words had just triggered. _Hashtag Masculinity So Fragile_?

He had just read that — not even a week ago. It was witty, impeccably supported by source material, and an easy A in his book.

Had Darla been taking essays this whole time?

Was it wrong that he felt strangely lied to?

Jughead quickly made his first accusation of the night, asking if she had, in fact, stolen the essay online.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so, her look immediately read of indignation.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : That title. I just read the same thing last week.

 

“You’re probably mistaken, everything we’ve chatted about is completely mine.” She responded.

Unknown to her, his eyes narrowed. He was now completely sure this domme was not only guilty of stealing what he had verified to be an original essay but was now also lying about it.

Curious, he asked her if she went to the local university, listing it by name.

Her silence only seemed to fuel whatever sense of justice he felt he was purveying at the moment. He continued to send another message letting her know her response made her as good as guilty.

“I said I wrote it!” She exclaimed, her tone angry and panicked at once.

His next thoughts were words typed and sent to Darla before he could think twice on it, concluding, somehow, that she went to URW.

 _What if._ .. Jughead paused momentarily as the thought crossed his mind — _she was one of his students?_

What was the full name of that student who wrote the paper?

_Becky Copper?_

_Britney Caper?_

_Betty Cooper._

 

 _Yes,_ that was it.

 

 **TemptationSeeker13** : Is your name Betty Cooper?

 

_Mistress Darla has left the room_

 

And just like that, the video feed went black and Jughead’s eyes and mouth were wider than he even knew possible. Dick still out, he felt exposed in a way that wasn’t easily reversible.

 

This student knew him, knew that he liked being slapped around by a self-assured woman, knew there was a part of him that he would never get back from his teenage years, and how he first knew he was submissive--A student who didn’t even know she was talking to her _teacher_ this whole time.

 

He stood up, righting himself in his pants before rushing over to the refrigerator. A cheap can of beer would have to do.He chugged the contents down violently before crushing the can with a distorted crunch between his hands.

_Fuck._

**_Shit_ ** _._

_What the fuck?_

 

Jughead ran a hand through his hair several times, pacing the small length of his apartment. The poor loveseat bore the brunt of his anger as he kicked the consignment furniture.

Everything about his life was in the best state it had ever been in. Now, everything good was falling away like a bizarre acid trip.

 

_Was he going to get fired for this shit?_

_Would he be posted to a list of teacher’s with weird ass fetishes online and mocked throughout the rest of his career?_

_Did this mean she was no longer going to talk to him_?

These questions and so many more made his head swim. Each one created additional layers of dissonance from his conflicting needs at the moment.

 

He shut his computer down — some space from the situation at hand was a necessity.

 

* * *

 

Two days passed before Jughead considered logging back onto the site. He drank himself to sleep each night— a distinct part of his heart ached severely and only mass quantities of strong alcohol helped numb the pain that had overtaken the confusion.

After sufficient time to calm down over the rest of the week, which included calling in sick for his Thursday class, he felt ready to attempt facing the reality of the situation. At least online.

Upon trying to log on, there was an alert saying that he was expressly banned from entering the site and that if he felt this was done incorrectly, an email could be sent to a support account.There was no doubt this wasn't an error.His mistress wanted nothing to do with him now that she knew the truth of who he was.

Shit, Jughead should want nothing to do with _her_ , his student, now that he was aware of who she was and what sort of relationship they had automatically established by the merit of him grading her papers--The same papers he had no problem stroking his cock to until he came over and over again, words of praise falling from his lips for his mistress.

 

But it was over now.

 

He could have easily pretended he didn’t recognize the essay. Could have just let the subject lie low and he would still have his weekly diversion of pleasure, still have regular small contacts throughout the week. Could have still felt like he was wanted and had a direct purpose to serve his goddess.

 

_That was it._

 

Jughead couldn’t just passively sit around waiting for her to reach out to him or let him back into her site. He was a grown ass adult, and even though she was arguably his pupil, she was also of legal age. Having decided that he couldn’t live like this — without Darla — even if it meant having to accept that she was an inextricable part of his mistress, he had to do _something_.

Grabbing his phone, he texted the number she had given him a month prior. A few seconds later, he received a notice that his SMS could not be sent. He tried again, in the event that he had run into a poor cell service corner of his apartment, but found no such luck.

Several hours passed with growing unrest and an unknown number of pulls from the bottle of liquor he kept stashed in the freezer, Jughead had nearly thrown his phone out the window.He finally caved and picked up the device of his current torture and dialed her number only to be greeted by the worst words possible in that moment.

 _We are sorry, but you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in err_ —

 

God. Fucking. Damn. It.

 

* * *

 

Jughead would like to believe that he wasn’t the stalker ex-boyfriend type. His actions when it came to his mistress; however, did not solidify that defense. Each morning, afternoon, and evening, he logged onto her site. The page’s “Miss Darla was last active “X” hours ago” was always under six hours at any given time.

Of course, she didn’t owe anything to him. He wasn’t trying to claim any sort of ownership over her when in fact he was technically under her’s, having proudly submitted to her, letting her call him “ _mine”_ so many times he lost count. The possessive talk was just a part of their normal conversations.

Maybe he was experiencing withdrawal-like symptoms.

After having quit over two years ago, he picked up smoking again.., Unfortunately, trading one bad habit for another didn’t seem to be a successful method in stopping himself from trying to figure out what Darla — no, _Betty_ — was up to.

 

* * *

 

Today was great. Today was the date of a paper submission. Paper submission days meant attendance was essentially mandatory unless the student’s parent had died. Betty had been absent from the last few classes (understandably), leaving Jughead further upset with each passing day.

This meant he was finally going to have the chance to see her again. Maybe talk to her.

What would he say? Admittedly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his pursuit, but this was the perfect time to finally get a word in about how the last week had been since she cut off communication with him.

Striding into class with a particular bounce in his step, he sat in the back corner as he usually did, as Professor Anderson was the main attraction of this class. Surveying the students, he stared at the spot Betty usually took and then looked around the rest of the room when he was unable to find her.

After four full times of letting his gaze dart around the class hall, Jughead gripped at the edges of the seat he sat on.

_She didn’t show up._

Miss “I-never-skip-even-the-optional-prompts” Cooper didn’t show up to the mandatory paper submission class.

Logging onto the class portal, he decided to check to see if she had dropped the class. 

Instead of seeing that she was no longer was enrolled, he spotted a record of an email to the Professor stating that she was attending the funeral of her Aunt and had the program PDF attached as proof of receipt.

She had also submitted a paper he was sure would be flawless.

Jughead shut the laptop louder than he would have hoped, drawing a few looks from students who were obviously not too enthralled with the current lecture. Restraining himself from any additional outbursts from the anger he felt building inside, he dismissed himself from the class temporarily.

 

He wouldn’t even get the satisfaction of failing her on the paper that he was surely going to edge himself to later that night.

 

After splashing himself with cold water in the bathroom, he came up with a perfectly brilliant (read: impulsive and poorly thought out) plan to get Betty back into the classroom. He needed the peace of mind of hearing her say whether or not she actually felt nothing towards him in real life — that their chemistry was fabricated and just a product that he had purchased.

He prayed he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

Jughead really _did_ think it was a narrow, cheap shot to send out a notice with the Professor’s email as the sender.  But he did it anyway. The email itself alerted Ms. Cooper that if she were to miss one additional day of class that she would be immediately given a failing grade despite such promising literary potential. It was just desperate enough that when Wednesday rolled around, so did the blonde he had been trying to get the attention of.

Betty's rigid posture and careful focus on everything besides him was painfully obvious. From his perspective, he was at far greater risk by trying to pursue her in this environment than vice versa, but there really was no other option.

For today’s class, he was merely proctoring an exam, which meant he didn’t need to take any special measures to stay focused and keep his eyes off of her.

Instead of keeping his eyes off her, though, Jughead spent the first ten minutes of silence in the auditorium-style classroom blatantly staring directly at her. If she was distracted by his presence she didn’t show it, her eyes fixated on the essay questions on her page, pen furiously scrawling her answers in the blue book in front of her.

Each scrunch of her nose as she read the next prompt and self-confident smile once she was sure she had the perfect response ensnared him further. Maybe she wasn’t a raven-haired dominatrix in real life, but she was still the same captivating beauty that Darla was. Perhaps what was more apparent was how she was capable of all this in a Christmas sweater, jeans, and a tight ponytail. There was no pretense to her simple image but he could still see the underlying poise she possessed that was years beyond her current age.

Every so often, she would accidentally make eye contact with him as he stared at her. The fact that he refused to break it made her initially look elsewhere with fast determination.

On the third time; however, she gave him a small glare before returning to her exam. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. There was always something about cute girls glaring that was far more amusing than off-putting. Over the next fifteen minutes, he became the single biggest fan of the vast collection of facial expressions Betty Cooper seemed to possess.

When a single ring sounded in the hall, notifying the students that the period had ended, everyone stood up, scrambling to exit their rows and turn in their exams whether they had fully completed them or not.

He saw Betty try her best to mix amongst her peers, quickly making her way through the crowd and dropping her blue book off on the desk he sat at without so much as a glance at him.

Before she had the chance to run off, Jughead took his shot and spoke up.

 

“Excuse me, Miss Cooper.”

 

A part of him felt terrible at the way she stiffened before turning back around to face him; another part of him loved it. She had driven him off every emotional cliff in the last week, and he needed to know that he had the ability to influence her as well.

 

“I believe I saw you using a cheat sheet during the exam — which as you know, is expressly _forbidden_.” He punctuated the last word with additional emphasis, watching as her face contorted from one of shock to fury before settling on a calm facade of focused rage.

 

“Please, sit back down and we’ll talk about this once your classmates have left. Wouldn’t want to punish you in front of everyone.”

Betty turned her back to him with such sharpness that her ponytail could have easily served as a weapon if someone were close enough.

 

They sat silently staring across from each other, him behind his desk at the front of the room and her seated back in the row she always chose. Her hands were neatly folded in front of her while his were steepled as they both waited for the hall to empty completely.

 

_How had he not noticed her like this before?_

Entirely separate from any construct of obvious female dominance, she was extraordinary.

He lightly drummed his fingertips together, anxious to get the opportunity to finally speaking with her.

 

“Shut the door, please,” Jughead called at the last student exiting the room.

 

The student exchanged a sympathetic look with Betty before they did as they were told.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She immediately cut to the chase before he had the opportunity to lead the conversation any other way. “Way to not only tarnish my reputation with the topic of cheating but also raising alarms that we’re in the middle of a student teacher affair!”

 

Her hands remained perfectly still on the desk in front of her as she continued to scold him.

 

“This is reckless. Irresponsible. And not mention entirely idiotic. Can’t you just pretend the last few months never happened and move on with your life?”

 

He wanted to interrupt her. He _really_ did. But he also couldn’t fight the growing tightness in his lower abdomen as her tone continued to work him up.

 

“What can I say,” Jughead finally spoke when it seemed there was a break in her chiding, “I’ve been a bad boy with no one to answer to.”

 

She stood up, slamming her palms against the flat surface of the table-like desk in front of her.

If he thought her glare before was cute, this was one down-right bone-chilling. Maybe she did possess the ability to cause his stomach to turn in just a bit of fear mixed with definite excitement.

 

“Get on your feet, Mr. Jones.”

 

Before he had time to mentally acknowledge her words, his body followed her command without delay. His obedience seemed to steady her.

Betty crossed her arms under chest for good measure, making it clear this was not an opportunity for a deep conversation like it seemed he had planned.

 

“Come here,” he said, a shade more confident than a question but not fully a request.

 

She remained still.

 

“Dar— _fuck_.”

 

Her eyes closed as she grimaced.

 

“Betty.”

 

She looked at him, crossed arms tightening further. He wasn’t sure to approach her at this moment. Her visage so closed off and yet vulnerable all at once that no amount of conversation prep he had thought about in the last hour seemed sufficient for bridging the literal and metaphorical distance between them.

“Betty, _please_.”

 

Jughead walked around the desk until he was standing at the front of it. He leaned back against the edge of the surface as he continued his concentrated gaze on her.

His hand rubbed the back of his neck with a careless amount of strength that caused an additional kink to be formed where his hand kneaded. He was grateful for the ache as he struggled with his next words.

 

“I’ve missed you.”

 

There was a brief second that her lips parted in what he thought to be surprise. The careful mask of indifference quickly covering it up before he had time to call her on it.He needed to keep peeling back her facade--needed to keep exposing her until he finally felt even with her.

 

“I was pissed at first.”

 

The corners of her lips turned down into a frown.

 

“I tried to pretend you didn’t matter.”

 

She shifted her weight to one side, brows knitting closer together.

 

“That I didn’t need some girl, no less my student, in my life telling me what to do and how to do it.” He shrugged lazily, eyes trained on each of her subtle movements. Jughead let out a small laugh before adding, “But you know what? I was wrong.”

 

The emptiness of the hall made her sharp inhale of breath audible despite the distance between them.The shocked look Betty had done so well at hiding was now plainly displayed to him.

 

“And it’s probably in vain to hope that you felt half the connection I did over the last few months. But, I really do hope… beg even — that it wasn’t all just made up. I’d give anything for that.”

 

Her arms dropped to her side at his confession. Her chest visibly rising and falling let Jughead know that she too, was affected by the situation at hand.

When he saw her start to walk down the stairs, his heart practically leapt out his chest.

 

“Beg, huh?” Betty questioned as she continued her descent closer.

 

He nodded aggressively as she finally came face-to-face with him. Despite his easy height advantage over her, he felt small in her presence.

 

“Show me, then. On your knees.”

 

Not that Jughead was privy to this, but she had a distinct way of masking her emotions with the inner domme she had found over the years. He wasn’t entirely certain if he was in a twisted daydream where we would wake with a cum stain on his pants, but he figured he didn’t have time to really question anything right now.

Kneeling in front of her, he looked up at her as she reached her hand out to run her hand through his thick locks.

“It wasn’t fabricated,” Betty admitted. “This last week…” she paused, inhaling deliberately and then slowly exhaling to calm herself, “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

 

Jughead nuzzled his cheek against her thighs, enjoying the texture against his skin. He wasn’t expecting her next words.

 

“I missed you, too… I don’t think it really would have been possible for me to not have missed you. There hasn’t been a day in the last few months, period, that I haven’t thought about you.”

 

He froze, unable to move for several beats until she tangled her hand in his hair and tugged, forcing him to look up at her.

They locked eyes intensely before he took her other hand in his, bestowing kiss after kiss on her knuckles.

 

“Please, take me back,” he said in between kisses. “Let me serve you — the way you deserve to be worshipped that I couldn’t do before.”

 

She giggled, uncertain of how to handle such a proposition and slightly ticklish on the knuckles apparently.

 

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Betty smiled, waiting for his face to drop before finishing her statement, “How could I say no to that offer?”

 

The joy quickly returned to his face, and he squeezed her hands affectionately.

 

“Wait,” she began, “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your first name. I feel like that’s something I should know now.”

 

He paused, slightly cringing. “Don’t overthink it, but call me Jughead.”

 

Her brow arched at him before she nodded once. “Alright... Jughead.”

 

The sound of his name coming from her lips would fuel his thoughts for days to come.

 

“Any chance we can go back to our one on one sessions...” he started, his eager tone now lower and gravelly. He released her hands, opting to smooth his own up her calves toward the backs of her thighs. “Just in person?” His brows raised pleadingly as he looked up at her.

 

“Hmm… you’ve been a bad boy, as you said. Which means you’ve got a good deal of punishment coming your way, mister.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, hands continuing their ministrations.

 

“Oh, yes. Instead of paying my hourly fee, why don’t you pick me up a nice pair of heels from my wishlist. They’ll be _very_ necessary.” Her voice dropped into that stern tone that Darla always spoke with and he was _gone_.

 

“Fuck me,” Jughead choked out.

 

“If you’re lucky.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote the same as the last time for the essay if anyone is curious!
> 
> I love hearing reactions and all that good stuff!
> 
> Find me on tumblr --[juxtaposedmusings!](http://juxtaposedmusings.tumblr.com/). I post graphics, tidbits, and sneak peeks there! Get ready for some smutty smut smut next chapter. :)


	3. One-on-One IRL

The past two and a half weeks (or seventeen days, fifteen hours, and seven minutes as Jughead's countdown would inform you) had been a tortuous build up—for Betty, it was a tantalizing tease as she pushed him further and further.

After their confrontation, he had been granted the privilege of texting her on her personal phone. Being that there were only two weeks left of class, Betty had decided it was best to wait for the remaining days to pass before finally getting the one-on-one session they both craved. The whole teacher-student thing was a sexy roleplay pretense, but she respected his ambitions as much as she wanted him writhing underneath her.

They caught up over coffee every other day and spoke incessantly on the phone in their limited spare time. Each interaction further confirming that their compatibility far exceeded a merely sexual one.

She was just as sharp as her papers and he was consistently surprising her with how perfectly attentive he was to her separate from her ruling over him completely. Even more, was the push and pull of their general dynamics. The two of them never missing a beat when the other slipped up, verbally or otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Betty had spent the duration of the wait planning their first night together.

Admittedly, she hadn't felt this giddy about a boy since middle school. When she wasn't paying attention in classes, she would scrawl out the general outline, occasionally crossing out various ideas and replacing them with others that were either more creative or less physically demanding.

If everything went half as well as anticipated, she expected there would be plenty of time to continue exploring their respective kinks and fetishes. Beyond the general need to have him serve out his punishment, Betty found herself drawn to the idea of keeping the night relatively simple. After all, there had been nothing too incredibly complicated between the two of them before, and yet it had already been one of the most robust connections she had ever felt.

She even took a special trip to pick up a new lingerie piece. While she had an undoubtedly large array of outfits from her time playing Miss Darla, this time would be about establishing the domme named Betty. The one she thought was exclusively bound to a fictional character, but she was gathering that perhaps her wit and fire came from a place that was innately her own. She was excited to explore this side of herself with such a willing partner.

 

* * *

 

Jughead knocked on the door of her apartment for the first time. He held his breath waiting for her to open the door to him, his jaw going slack and dick instantly hardening the moment she came into view.

This was definitely Betty Cooper standing in front of him and not Miss Darla, but she was in her signature black silk robe that he had always imagined running his hands over. Blonde hair and natural beauty an additive he never knew he wanted. She grinned at his reaction, grabbing him by the suspenders and pulling him into her apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.

Before she could stop him, his lips were on hers; hands gripping at her silk covered hips as he tried to steal every moment she would allow. He groaned as she kissed him back, adding to the heady sensations already taking over him. So hungry and deep were his kisses that he hardly noticed the moment her hands left his suspenders. He was quickly broken from his ravenous claiming of her lips as she delivered a close-range slap to his cheek. The sting made his blood burn delightfully, the fire in her eyes lighting him up in turn.

 

"Not so fast, lover boy," she tsked, backing up from him while wagging her finger in scolding yet playful manner.

 

He followed her, rubbing at his cheek and nearly tripping over his own feet as he traced her steps.

 

"Where's my present?"

 

Her question made him blink rapidly, trying to think about anything aside from the fact that he needed to have her in any way she would allow.

 

"Oh, shit. Yeah." He removed the bag slung over his shoulders, unzipping it before taking out the designer pair of high heels.

 

"You did so well!" She eagerly praised, snatching the heels from him to examine them closer.

 

"Does that mean those extra ten minutes of punishment you mentioned are revoked?"

 

Betty hummed and thought for a moment. "I'll take it into consideration." She set the shoes on the floor before stepping into them one foot at a time, his eyes glued to her every movement.

 

"You like?" She asked as if his face didn't already give her the answer. Betty did the stereotypical foot pop to showcase the shoes and her legs all at once.

 

"Obviously."

 

"Good, now lose the sass—and your clothes while you're at it." She directed, arms crossing over her chest, causing her cleavage to become all the more apparent.

 

"I can do one of those," he countered, slipping off his loafers and starting to unbutton his shirt at once.

She rolled her eyes, appreciating the rate at which he removed his clothing. "God you’re such a brat. Now, hurry up so we can review the schedule of planned events for the night."

Jughead made a show of sliding his suspenders down, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants at a pace that had her arching a brow at him. He removed his shirt without a second thought for where it fell on the floor before he took a few seconds to gauge her reaction.

"What part of hurry up didn't you understand?" She asked, walking over to him and grabbing him at the root of his hair, immediately bringing his head level with her shoulders. "Pants, off."

For a moment, he was stunned by her directness and the sharp pull at his scalp that he struggled for a second to shove his slacks and boxer briefs off in one fell swoop.

She dragged him along to her bedroom (still considered a studio because the top wall of the bedroom did not fully touch the ceiling.),  continuing to direct him further into the room until they came across the full-length stand-up mirror. She released him with a bit of a shove, having a fair deal of fun testing out what his actual physical boundaries were. He said he had a thing for real pain and submission, so now would be the chance to push that.

He straightened up in front of the mirror as she appeared behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder.

 

"Look at you," she purred, her hands trailing over his quads, nails leaving subtle marks along the way. "Your webcam just doesn't do you justice. And you're so hard for me already and we've hardly done anything."

His eyes closed as she haplessly ran her hands over his dick with little specific attention. Before he was able to enjoy the sensation for long he was broken out of the reverie by a harsh tug to his hardened cock.

 

"Eyes open." Betty smiled, hands already exploring the planes of his abdomen. He let out a slight grunt, the blues of his eyes already a darkening in tone.

 

"You're going to work very hard tonight to prove to me you're a good boy, is that understood?"

 

He nodded, taking deep breaths to do his best to resist the urge to touch her already.

 

"First, you're going to atone for your terrible behavior in the interim break of our relationship. You were such a desperate little slut to get my attention, Juggie. You made it so clear how much you needed my guiding hand to put you back in your groveling state. Choose a safeword because there's a distinct chance you might need it."

 

"Vonnegut."

 

Her smile widened, tongue clicking against the rood of her mouth. "Should have guessed. Now — you're going to read off a passage from Kafka's _The Trial_  during your punishment. You really turned me onto him this semester, so I figured I'd return the favor by embedding the lines in your memory of this night forever."

 

His heart was racing under her fingertips that skimmed his chest.

 

"If you do a particularly great job at keeping up, you'll only have to read it over once. Sound good for part one?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Yes, what?"

 

"Yes, Mistress."

 

"Mm, yes," she preened, her right hand enveloping his before bringing it to the length of his cock. "Touch yourself nice and slow for the next parts."

 

Her hand guided his until he mirrored the correct pace she had intended.

 

"Then you're to show me how much pleasure you can bring me while I ride your pretty face."

 

Jughead stared at her in the mirror, silently asking if this was a real possibility. She nodded back at him, her teeth lightly tugging at her bottom lip.

 

"Don't think you've been the only one getting off to the thought of our sessions."

 

His hips stuttered at her confession, breath catching in his chest before growing more ragged.

 

"Although," she continued, her hand rejoining his slow strokes, "You know, it's just so hard to get off on your own when you're just so soaked that your fingers can hardly find any friction on your clit."

 

Betty smiled as she heard him choke on what she assumed was his own spit. She gave a firm squeeze before moving his hand away from his dick. "After you've made me cum at least twice, you're going to let me fuck you. You'll probably beg for it by then, and the kind mistress I am, will indulge you if you've followed the previous schedule to a tee."

 

Before releasing him, she gave his ass a firm slap, watching him stumble without the support of her body behind him. He turned around, watching her effortlessly walk backward in her five-inch high heels. His eyes glued to her hands that were undoing the bow keeping her robe together.

Once she had removed the silk past her shoulders, she shimmied the remainder of the garment off, never once breaking eye contact with him. Silently, he had wished he would get the chance to see more of her than their webcam sessions typically allowed, and by the looks of the sheer black teddy his mistress wore, it looked like it truly was going to be his lucky night. 

"On the ground," she commanded with an airy tone, "on your back, to start."

Jughead lowered himself to the ground. First, at a seated position and then leaned onto the backs of his forearms as she began walking toward him, eyes trained on her deliberate steps. The view from the angle was more than he could have hoped for, from the underside of her breasts to the clear picture of the matching panties she wore hidden behind the see-through slip.

He swallowed audibly as she stepped in between his legs, getting far too close to his balls for comfort before she lifted a leg and pressed the bottom of her shoes—heel and all—against his chest to direct him to further recline.

 

"Fucking Christ.” His words were devoid of breath as if she’d stolen it from him, as her eyes roamed the expanse of his skin.

 

"Have you ever been this desperately hard before?" Betty questioned with her foot still resting on his chest. "You're really one of the neediest boys I've ever come across, Jug."  She removed her foot before stepping outside his thighs to walk around him, stopping close to his face.

 

"Always so eager to please me," she caressed his jawline with the point of her shoe. "Always asking how to degrade yourself further."

 

He angled his face to try to leverage his position enough to allow his lips to find the top of the black designer heels, placing a fleeting kiss before she nudged his face away with a soft kick.

 

"So filthy," she tsked,  smiling nonetheless. "How many times was it that you came to the thought of me holding your head down with a pair of high-heeled shoes much like this?"

 

"Twelve." His tone a fraction of hair louder than a whisper.

 

"Excuse me? I didn't hear you," she leaned down, a disappointed look etched on her face.

 

Enunciating clearly this time, voice steady, he repeated himself. "Twelve."

The corners of her mouth pulled up into a small grin before sauntering away to her dresser several feet away. Jughead was seconds away from crawling after her before she turned around, a little paperback book in hand.

Before he could ask what she had, he recalled what his punishment was, and quickly confirmed that the title on the cover was, in fact, _The Trial_.

 

"On your stomach," Betty ordered nonchalantly, and he turned over and braced himself once again with his forearms, hoping to be still able to look at her.

 

"Nuh uh." The bottom of her shoe found its way to the top of his head before his eyes focused explicitly on the floor. She dropped the book near him, and he instantly grabbed it. "Eyes focused on the passage."

 

Opening the small playbook, Jughead turned the pages immediately to the bookmarked passage. Wetting his bottom lip, he began to read aloud from the pages exposing the tribulations of Joseph K. Before he finished the first sentence, he felt the pressure of her foot on his lower back. His eyes quickly skirted around, trying to focus on the text and verbally keep up with the pace he had set, but he craved to know what exactly she was doing.

Well, he knew what she was doing.

But he wanted to see everything in vivid detail. From the lines of her shapely legs to the curve of her ankle to how his flesh looked, indented after she had pressed the sharp point of her heel into his skin. It wasn't fair that he didn't get a full view of everything happening, but he supposed that was at least half of the point of being punished. Silently, he hoped the point of this play choice was in fact due to him mentioning Kafka during the semester instead of a representation of the fact that this punishment may never indeed end meaning that he would never get the opportunity to bed her.

Before he could become too introspective, the sharp pain of her full weight supported predominantly on two lengthy heels dug into him mid back. He let out a breathless hiss as she took small, yet purposeful steps up his back. For two seconds time, his safe word clung close to the edge of his tongue, but he continued in spite of the sharp pain.

 

"Don't stop, Juggie," she reminded, deliberately increasing the intensity of her right heel. When he was one sentence away from finishing the length of the passage, she stepped off his back and moved her feet to either side of his shoulders. She allowed the point of her left heel to trail down his toned tricep as he finished the reading in full.

 

"Did that hurt?"

 

Her tone was surprisingly soft. He closed his eyes briefly, teeth biting his bottom lip to bide his current temptation to flip the tables on them too severely in the situation. Jughead loved being her sub, but there were still moments in which he couldn't fight off the urge to gain control of the situation.

Turning over so that he was propped up on the back of his forearms once again, he stared up at her like the larger than life Goddess that she was.

"Yes, mistress." He answered with the smallest glint of defiance in his eyes. She just hardly caught this detail before he was able to lean up, wrap his arms around the back of her knees, and bring her down to a kneeling position over his neck. 

"Maybe you need to re-read that passage, baby boy," Betty remarked, brow slightly quirked at him. He moved his arms out from between her legs, his fingertips now ghosting up the front of her bare thighs.

"I followed your instructions, and I'd say that was time—" Jughead edged up the gauzy fabric of the teddy, closer yet to the tops of her thighs, "—served." His thumb slipped up the band of the g-string, his other fingers distracting her as they smoothed over her hips.

“Shall we continue to part deux?” He inquired, thumb slipping under and out from the band at a dizzying rhythm. He treasured the slight shake her body gave, already starting to give into him the way he already had for her. 

"I'd say so." She responded, and no later than she had agreed did he end his teasing and drag the sides of her panties down her thighs. She raised entirely onto her knees before briefly standing up to help in the process of thoroughly removing the unnecessary garment. She then returned to her previous position.

Betty let out a small yelp as his hands rested fully her hips once more and pulled her down, wasting no additional time in bringing her wet pussy to his mouth. He nuzzled his nose against her clit, inhaling the entirety of her, driven into a haze from the combination of her scent and the acidic taste already coating his tongue. Her head fell back with a moan before she was able to bring herself to move his hands off her hips and bringing them down to rest near her high-heels.

"No hands," she murmured as her own hands went to her breasts, giving her still covered tits a firm squeeze before circling her nipples with the pad of her thumbs. The buds hardened under the pressure of her fingers and friction of the mesh-like fabric.

He craned his neck, tongue experimentally running along the slit of her bare folds, mentally recording which sounds he was able to elicit from her depending on the pressure his tongue exerted. Curling his fingers around the stem of her high-heels, he held them like a lifeline as he continued his ministrations.

What he could see of her from the angle he was at was divine. From the dark blonde landing strip directly above him to the way her jaw hung slack from his actions. Everything about her continued to harden his cock, practically demanding the start of the precum that was now leaking from the head.

The tip of his tongue tentatively prodded at the top of her cunt until he could firmly feel her clit, sucking at it with fervor, drawing increased noises and movement of her hips against his face. He groaned into her folds, the vibration of the sound against her pussy sending a shudder throughout her entire torso.

"You're doing such a good job.” Her praise was breathless as she brought a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face firmly against her. His tongue circled her clit purposefully several times before he dragged it down to her entrance.

Jughead paused his actions as the rate her hips ground against his face grew in intensity, a secret smile on his lips. He didn't need her verbal affirmation to know he was on the right track when her body did all the talking for her.

When she pulled his hair in frustration, he obliged by finally penetrating her, his tongue enveloped in her slick heat, feeling and tasting the full extent of her arousal. Before he could try anything intricate, she was riding his tongue with a renewed sense of vigor, his nose now brushing against her clit as she rode his face.

"So — so close," she moaned, eyes clenched shut as he tongue fucked her while she continued gyrating against his face. She wasn't sure he could breathe, and Jughead really couldn't have given less of a care towards the state of his oxygen intake. He only wished he could use his hands to push her over the edge even sooner.

Her thighs and knees clenched the sides of his neck and face, signaling her undoing before he heard the confirmation fall from her lips. The most stunning string of expletives fell from her lips coupled with further arousing sounds that made him ache for her cunt to be wrapping around his cock.

"My Juggie," she keened, head thrown back in ecstasy, "My baby boy." Her words were just a level above a whisper as she panted for air, chest heaving beautifully.

Betty leaned back, lightly sitting on his chest, her pussy still fully exposed to him. He appreciated the sight for all it was worth, still head over heels amazed at the fact that he was here under the woman of his dreams. “Fuck.”

 

"Give me a second, okay?" She asked, her chest still heaving from exertion.

 

He nodded, using the extra time to consider how he was going to get her off again.

 

"Hands acceptable this time?"

 

"Yes."

 

Smirking in response as an inquisitive brow raised on her face, he asked, "You trust me?"

 

"Completely.” Her face expressionless while her body still occasionally shook in the aftershocks of her first orgasm.

 

"Then, my Goddess..." his hands ran up her thighs before giving her a sharp slap, "turn around and get your cunt back on my face."

 

Her brows rose in equal parts shock and amusement. "I'm going to let that sass slide in hopes of whatever you have in mind being worth it."

She turned around carefully, making sure not to hit him in the face with her heels, facing his feet. She took a brief second to admire how hard he still was, his cock flat against his defined abdominals.

Hands finding their place along the juts of her front hip bones, Jughead quickly brought her into a seated position, just shy of a few inches from his face. He gave her pussy a quick opened mouth kiss before pulling away with a low growl.

"I always wondered how good you'd taste," he said, giving another long swipe of his tongue against her slit. "But Jesus Christ—" He didn't even manage to finish the rest of his sentence before he brought her fully on top of his face once more.

If Betty was wet before, she was positively soaked now. She couldn't help the fact that she fell slightly forward, hands bracing herself on his upper thighs.  The new position she had fallen into gave him a new idea, making him sit up as much as he could from his current angle.

He gave her ass a light shove while giving her the direction of, "On your knees. Keep your hands where they are."

 

Betty smiled, knowing he wouldn't be able to see it. It wasn't something they had explicitly gone over—their switch tendencies. While by no means was it an even 50/50 sort of thing, over the past two weeks she had observed enough about Jughead to have been able to say that there was at least an excess of 20% of dominance when it came to the raven-haired TA. Perhaps he had picked up on the fact that she let him push the bounds of the general slave/mistress relationship far more than the typical dynamic of total dominance.

 

God, he was perfect for her.

 

Her smile fell, and jaw went slack as he buried his face between her legs again. His arms wrapped around her thighs as if they were an additional brace for support. She was thankful for how sturdy this position was. Her back arched in a manner resembling a cat as he ate her out like it was his life pursuit.

A moan left her throat at the loss of contact when he pulled away, releasing his arms from her legs. His tongue darted out to lick his upper lip in one quick motion as he swiftly brought his hand back and landed a direct smack to her ass, causing her to lurch forward, further bracing her hand on his legs. She wasn't entirely sure that her last orgasm had ever wholly ended, and the change of pace in their foreplay was quickly building her second orgasm.

Jughead experimentally slid a finger into her, intently watching her reaction. Giving a nod at her immediate moan and following shudder, he pumped a single digit inside her. When he was sure her body was ready, he added a second finger, turning the pads of his fingers down toward what he hoped would be her g-spot. After finding a steady rhythm with his hand that had her arms shaking, he leaned in once more to lave his tongue over her pussy. He took his time relearning her from the new angle, exploring her with a sense of urgency.

Quickly finding his stride in running his tongue over her clit, he licked at her mercilessly while thrusting his fingers in and out of her at an accelerated rate. He could feel her start to tighten around his fingers, the space narrowing further causing him to overlay his fingers on top of each other as he continued.

Pulling his head back once more to take in the visual aesthetics of the moment, he couldn’t help the words that escaped him. "You are so perfect.” The breath caught in his throat before he dipped his head back down to find her clit.

"Jug," she pleaded, now braced on her forearms on either side of his legs.

His smile reappeared, hidden neatly against her wet folds.

The last thing he expected of her was to beg for him to make her come—she didn't have to. It was his absolute pleasure to get her to the highest peak she had ever experienced. Whether he would succeed this time or sometime in the distant future, he was ready to put in every moment of his spare time learning how to please her best.

Jughead groaned as he felt her pussy clench against his fingers, her entire body starting to visibly tremble as her moans escalated. "Let go, Betty," he urged, his words hardly audible over her incoherent sentences as she climaxed.

He had broken a sweat from the moment she first stepped on his back earlier in the evening, but now, Betty was also covered in a light sheen—showing the level of exertion they had both undergone from their activities. Her torso and head were now laying against his mid to lower body, her head resting on his hip. He eased his fingers out of her, bringing the drenched fingers to his mouth and savoring the remaining flavor.

"Need another minute?" He teased, smarmy smirk wholly in place.

She pushed herself up, crawling forward and off of him before standing up. After taking a few deep breaths and steadying herself, she slipped off her heels, figuring they weren't doing her any service in establishing her balance.

"I'm fine. The question is, are you ready for what I'm going to do to you?" Her tone was calm and even as she gripped the edge of the sheer little dress, swiftly pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side.

Before she gave him time to answer, she had turned away from him and started walking the short distance to the bed. He was up and standing in record time, quickly following her over to the bed where she was now seated, legs crossed; as if she had been waiting for him to join her all day. She pointed a manicured finger towards the head of the bed, directing him.

 

"Get."

 

Following directions, he crawled up the bed, turning around once his head lined up with the fresh linen scented pillows. If it wasn't for the events to follow, he was reasonably sure he could have fallen asleep right there and then.

He watched her stand up from where she had been seated. She walked over to the bedside dresser, opening what looked like an extensively organized drawer of a variety of things before pulling out a condom. It had been something they discussed in detail over the past weeks— while they were both sure after exchanging test results their neither of them posed a threat to one another, the matter of clean up made Betty partial to condom use and Jughead merely felt lucky to have had the option to be inside her in any way at all.

She joined him on the bed, sitting up next to him before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on his lips that he clung to even as she pulled away.

Observing her open the packet along the directed perforation line, he swallowed audibly.  

Extracting it and quickly testing that everything looked fine, she grasped his cock firmly in one hand before rolling the condom over the head and promptly down his shaft. She made haste in moving to straddling him at the hips, his hands instinctively gripping at her own once she was situated.

They stared at each other in a brief moment of sobering clarity. Their chests were rising and falling noticeably, their naked bodies fully exposed to each other for the first time. Both of them never actually imagined this being a real possibility.

Rocking his hips upwards, Jughead reminded her how painfully hard he was with want, each passing second a further level of torture that he wasn't fully buried within her. She studied him deliberately, and it was clear she was now fully back in her element of control. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft of the cock in front of her once more, setting a teasing pace from the start.

Betty rose to her knees, edging further up as her pussy hovered over the head of his cock. A strangled groan left him, eyes switching between her face and the sinful actions her hands and lower body were taking part in. She moaned as she lightly rubbed her clit against his head, just hardly making contact. Her hips circling with practiced precision.  

 

"Please, Betts," he begged, his patience having worn off sometime after she had him strip for her.

 

She gave a small smile as she lowered her position, letting his length slide easily through her wet folds. His nails dug into the flesh of her hips, and he saw the brief falter of her smile as her eyes rolled back as a result of the slight bite of pain.

Jughead was partially afraid he wouldn't last incredibly long if she continued to tease him by grinding against him in this way, but the last thing he was about to do was to tell his dream girl to stop drenching his cock in her arousal that he was the cause of.

After what felt like an eternity to him, Betty finally rose in a full kneeling position again, taking hold of him as she quickly positioned him at her entrance. He watched as her face contorted into one of effort as she steadily took him in, slowly sinking down onto his cock.

 

"Oh my God," she mouthed, pausing a moment to adjust to him being inside her entirely. It had been a good deal of time since her last lover, and although she was more than adequately prepared, their starting position was a tall order to fill.

Her hips rolled forward, the man underneath her groaning in pleasure. Repeating the motion once more, she leaned back, her right arm supporting her new 45-degree angle.

"Show me how good I make you feel," she ordered, "Show me with your cock how good I make you feel, Jughead." Her words an invitation, he took no extra time to join her in her rhythm, picking up her pace in no time at all from how attuned to her he felt in that moment. She adjusted her legs apart further before bringing her free hand to her clit.

His eyelids lowered to half-mast as he watched his mistress continuously sink down onto his cock over and over again. The angle provided him with a clear view of him entering her, each roll of her hips further bringing them both closer to an eventual end.

 

"Don't you dare think about coming yet," Betty directed, and he entirely felt the jolt of her commands tightening in his lower stomach. It was one thing for her to have given him directions on stroking his cock, but having the sensation of her tightness wrapped around his dick, soaked in her wetness exceeded any previous level of excitement he had ever reached in the past.

 

"Yes, ma'am.”

 

"You're going to wait—" her hips started to set a slower pace,"—until this cock of yours manages to get me off. Do you think you're good enough to do that?"

While having no personal doubts at this point in regards to the faith she had for him and his ability to get her to reach her climax, she felt an extra surge of desire to push his buttons as she saw the flush that appeared high on his cheeks.

Nodding his head, Jughead’s eyes gave away how utterly gone he already was, consumed by the goddess on top of him. She picked up the pace of her hips, having to bite her lip to hold back too many words of praise for the shortest of moments.

The lewd sound of their bodies coming together at an increasing tempo joined their shared noises of pleasure, a strange sort of symphony that pushed them further and urged them to pull one another deeper into the ecstasy they had created for each other.

She knew from looking at the way his abdominals were contracting that he was fairly close to finishing. In order to keep things going just a bit longer without sacrificing his coming too soon or his hard-on, Betty abruptly dismounted from him, returning back to the same reclined kneel she was in before except positioned just to the left of him, her fingers still circling her own clit.

He groaned in frustration, hands clenched in tight fists as he restrained rocking his hips up.

 

"I said, you're not coming just yet. You know as well as I do that you were just about to, weren't you, Juggie?"

 

After a few seconds of silent defiance, he gave a weak, "Yes," and bit his lip as he watched her touch herself.

 

"I'm almost there, my boy," she continued once he had responded, "I'm going to give you a second, then I'm going to get back on you and you're going to be such a good boy and make me cum first. Are we clear?"

 

After another extended bout of her eyes locked on him while Jughead drunk in every visual she had to offer, Jughead gave a slight nod before Betty turned around, properly straddling him in the reverse position from moments earlier. The only difference being the straight posture she now maintained.

She skillfully resheathed herself in no time at all, leaning forward to create a new delicious sensation. He let out a groan in time with her own, the two of them quickly reaching the same passionate cadence from before, this time he did not wait for permission to fuck up into her again. Knowing that if he were to get her there soon that he was going to have to help contribute whatever he was able to in making her orgasm.

"So good," Betty proclaimed, affirming that his actions were exactly what she had wanted. Her ass bucked back against him as his hips slammed into her, the two working in perfect hedonistic unity.

With one particularly forceful thrust, Jughead heard her sharp inhalation of breath, the sound of it sucking all the noise from the room except his own breathing. He stilled for a moment, confirming by the pulsations around his cock that she had, in fact, reached her climax. Gradually, he began to pick up the thrusts of his hips as she softly fell backward, resting her back against his chest as he smoothly brought her through her extended orgasm, knowing that he was just seconds away from finishing himself.

His arms wrapped around her chest as he felt the start of his long-awaited finish. The grip of his hold strengthened as entered her one last time before finally letting go. The combined dull aches from the marks still in his back from the extended foreplay to the beautiful pussy that was still coaxing his orgasm through her own added to the intensity of the moment. The guttural moan he released surprised even Betty, as this was quite stronger than any orgasm she had witnessed from him before.

 

They laid there, Jughead's arms wrapped around her for some moments before she finally made the move to roll off of him after tapping his arms to release her.

He turned his head at the sound of gentle laughter coming from the young woman. "Yes?" Confusion overlaid the smile already forming on his face.

 

"I was right."

 

"Right about what?"

 

"I don't know," Betty started, a bit lightheaded and airy in her tone, "I just always thought if ever there was a time I would meet one of my slaves… you would definitely be the only one I'd actually meet because I just knew… it'd be electric like this."

 

She turned to look at him, a beautifully genuine smile gracing her lips and lighting up her eyes. He couldn't help the hopelessly lost (but also found) look he gave to her in that moment.

 

"This isn't the end, right?" His question was vulnerable, and she extended her hand out to cup the side of his face.

 

"Oh no, baby boy. I've got so many plans for us," she cooed, gently stroking his cheek.

 

"You're mine as I am yours." His heart soared higher than ever before. “As long as you’re okay with my lifestyle, I want you to be a part of my life,” she professed.

 

“I wouldn’t think of changing any part of you.”

 

Betty brought his face to her own, kissing him thoroughly before pulling back to bite her bottom lip playfully.

 

"The bathroom's through that door," she pointed in front of them, "Go clean up so I can kiss you some more, okay?"

 

He didn’t need to be told twice before swiftly exiting the bedroom and heading off to the bathroom to properly remove his condom and splash some cold water on his face.

Once he was finished and had turned off the light, Jughead leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, staring at her relaxed on the bed. He admired the lines of her body—from her strong shoulders and perky tits, down to the shapely curve of her hip and smirked.

 

"Well, if I'm not the luckiest motherfucker in the universe, I don't know who is."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done. With a nice little bow my first fic since 2010 is complete. So excited to be writing more soon! Follow me on tumblr, send me comments, talk to me. I love it all. xoxo.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr --[juxtaposedmusings!](http://juxtaposedmusings.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [[1]](https://www.123helpme.com/how-the-male-characters-in-death-of-a-salesman-and-a-streetcar-named-desire-conform-to-their-societys-concept-of-masculinity-preview.asp?id=330825)  
> This is a literal title of an actual essay you could read if you felt like paying $2? I just added the "#MasculinitySoFragile:" in front of it. :)  
> Feel free to let me know what you thought and look forward to sharing more!


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